


Fading Light

by Lhugy_for_short



Series: Lhugy's Giveaway [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Porn, M/M, Unhealthy but consensual sex, Very Very Angsty, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: In the darkness of Ardyn's eternal night, hope strains and love fails. Where Gladio once found comfort in Prompto's eyes, he now only finds despair.





	Fading Light

**Author's Note:**

> For Mahokoyuki on Tumblr, who won my giveaway! The request was for angsty Promptio smut.   
> So here's some angst.   
> And some smut.   
> Mostly angst.   
> I'm sorry.

When exactly had Hammerhead started to feel like a prison?

Counting the passing of time in hours, days or even weeks had become impossible. The eternal night that had befallen Eos made time itself meaningless, as if the world had come to a standstill and they all merely existed in a single, stretched-out moment. What felt like a lifetime to Gladio may have only been weeks, or it may have been a year. 

They still slept, of course, and spent their waking hours working, staying busy in any way they could. _ They _ meaning the survivors, the refugees, the ones who were left after Ardyn’s plague had begun to spread. After the demons and the monsters had driven them to their last bastions of survival. 

After the Crystal had taken their king. 

Gladio, Prompto, even Ignis stayed for a time, doing what little they could to keep the garage - and the lights - running through the long night. Old Cid had told them that idle hands made for idle minds, and that  _ thinking  _ wouldn’t do anyone a bit of good against the madness. Only action and hard work would get them through. 

So Gladio  _ did  _ work, sometimes at the station, sometimes leaving with the hunters to search for more survivors beyond the safety of their power grid. Always coming back empty-handed and a little more broken inside. 

Prompto, on the other hand, could often be found in the garage. He tinkered a lot, listened while Cindy explained about motors and engines, moving parts and gears. Under her guidance he designed machines of his own, built them, took them apart again. It wasn’t really about learning, it was simply another way to kill time.

And it was stifling. 

That, Gladio supposed, was why Ignis had left. With Noct gone and his eyes useless, he’d felt the hopelessness of the endless night more deeply than any of them. One moment he’d been there, sleeping next to Gladio in the trailer as usual. Then, he was simply gone. 

Gladio knew he couldn’t blame him, not really. Hell, he was almost surprised he’d stuck around as long as he had. But his disappearance had left Prompto a total wreck; the blonde had stayed in bed for what felt like days, refusing to eat, always on the brink of tears. If it hadn’t been for Gladio’s presence, his hollow words of comfort, Prompto may never have recovered at all. 

Not that Gladio would call his current state much of a ‘recovery.’ 

And  _ that _ , at least to him, was the hardest part of all of this. Watching the light fade from Prompto just as it had from the sky. Seeing his smile grow thinner, duller with every passing moment. The joy inside him was dying, and Gladio wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to sit by and do nothing in the face of it. 

“We’ve finally almost got Dave’s old truck up and running again,” Prompto announced over dinner, his mouth full of mostly-stale potato chips snagged from the storehouse. Gladio didn’t look up from his book. “Cid thinks the problem is the alternator, but Cindy wants to try using the generators in the diner to test the battery first.”

“Hm.”

“If we can get  _ that _ charged, then we can know whether the problem is the connections or something with the….”

Gladio sensed it creeping up on him again. The frustration, the futility. What was the goddamned point? He’d already heard this story, or another one just like it, a dozen times. Prompto didn’t care about the fucking truck anymore than he did. He was just  _ talking _ , just filling up the empty space with noise, but in doing so he only made the silence more deafening.

“...told her ‘it’s worth a shot, right?’ So she asked me to ask Takka to….”

He snapped.

“Stop.”

“...if we could -- what?”

“Just  _ stop _ .” 

The blond furrowed his brows - there was a crease above them that had never been there before - and opened his mouth to speak again. Shut it. His eyes reddened and started to brim with bitter tears. “What the fuck,” came his voice again, low and shaky under his breath.

Gladio hated it. Hated everything. He threw his book to the side, surged forward and clamped his mouth over Prompto’s before he was forced to hear him cry. He stood and pulled Prompto into his arms, and as he pushed him back through the trailer toward the single bed, found no resistance, no hesitation. That bothered him, too - proof that Prompto had completely given up fighting. 

Wrong.  _ Everything  _ was wrong. His rough hands on too-pale skin, the kiss that was more teeth and anger than anything else; the depth of the silence in the rift between them as they practically tore away their clothing. The blonde fell to his knees without preamble, worked open Gladio’s pants and tugged them down to his calves. When Prompto’s lips found their way around his cock, there was no hint of playfulness, no smile there. Only frigid efficiency in the way he slicked him, and it stung like ice.

Gladio loathed it, and pulled him up by his arm after only a few heartbeats. Prompto didn’t look at him as he was turned and shoved onto the bed, didn’t speak as he crawled onto his knees without having to be told. Gladio spread his thighs and prepped him just as dispassionately. He wet his fingers, stretched and slicked Prompto as fast as he could. All the while his lips fixed in a tight line, his eyes locked solely on his work. 

Spitting once onto his fingers, Gladio gave a final twist before drawing away. There was no other warning. Suddenly replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he grunted as he pushed in past still-tight muscles; all the way to the hilt in one long but powerful thrust, driving the breath from Prompto’s lungs. Never giving him a chance to cry out.  

There was a time, yes, when they had been in love. When Gladio could have spent hours worshipping that sweet, freckled body; could have drunk in the sounds of his laughter and soft gasps until his mind was heavy with something far more than just lust. When Prompto would lay with him and smile against the side of his neck, trace the tips of his fingers like feathers over the dark lines of his tattoos. Back then, he would have given anything to make Prompto happy. To feel the warmth of his lips like kisses from the sun itself pressed against his skin.  

But that seemed a lifetime ago. There was no sun now, not in the sky or in their bed. They fucked out of desperation, Gladio’s weight holding Prompto down into the mattress as his cock slammed into him again, and again, and again. Chasing nothing but his own pleasure in an attempt to drown out everything else. 

Beneath him, Prompto clung to the sheets and focused on the pain. Shuddered. Grit his teeth. Bore the assault in silence. 

The mattress creaked with the rhythm of it. Old, tired, and worn. Gladio’s fingers tightened around Prompto’s arm as he felt his orgasm crash over him with deafening force. Blurring the edges of his vision before snapping his hips forward in a desperate spasm. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled out of Prompto’s body as he came, let his sex spill over his backside, his thighs, pooling on the already dirty sheets below. Noticed with a pang that Prompto hadn’t come - wasn’t even hard - and let that frustration carry down onto the bed with a groan. 

Prompto turned away from him afterwards. He laid on his side, face buried in the dirty pillow and arms wrapped around his bare chest. No longer babbling about trucks or batteries, no longer babbling about anything at all. Eventually, as his breathing slowed, he fell into a restless sleep. 

For a while, Gladio stayed awake to watch him. Taking in the sight of the marks his own rough hands left on fragile skin, he suddenly found himself fighting back his own tears of regret, of pain, of hopelessness. They couldn’t go on like this.  _ He _ couldn’t go on like this, feeling the weight of the end of the world every time he looked into Prompto’s eyes. No, if there was any way to fix this, he would have found it by now.

Leaving would hurt Prompto beyond remission, beyond what he ever deserved to be forgiven for. But staying was going to kill them both. 

Gladio found his jacket hanging on the back of the chair right where he’d tossed it earlier. His boots were by the door. There was nothing else he needed, besides a direction to start walking. 

And though he knew he would come to regret it, he forced himself not to look back as he stepped out of that trailer for the last time. 

When Prompto woke again, he wouldn’t be surprised to see Gladio gone. Hurt, yes, and guilty enough for the both of them. It would hit him harder even than when Ignis had abandoned him. 

But this time, there would be no one left to coax him out of bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> :')


End file.
